


The Ice Prince

by peculiarmars



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe, Autistic Draco Malfoy, Brother-Sister Relationships, Brotherly Affection, Bullying, Elemental Magic, Fluff and Angst, Good Draco Malfoy, Good Pansy Parkinson, Kings & Queens, Loosely Inspired by Thor, M/M, Magical Realism, Prince Draco Malfoy, Princess Pansy Parkinson, Protective Harry, Shy Draco, Sisterly Pansy, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-01-21 00:46:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12445668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peculiarmars/pseuds/peculiarmars
Summary: When King Parkinson conquers a dying realm of dark magic, he finds a lone baby sobbing in a temple. Not wanting to poor boy to starve, he takes him back to his own Kingdom and raises him as his own son with his wife, and sister to his young daughter Pansy.The boy was raised as an outcast with a natural talent for magic that further isolated him from anybody that wasn't family. But when the Kingdom of Slytherin receives a message from a Kingdom different from their own in every way possible, secrets are revealed, new friendships are made and dark magic arises from the depths in which it had been buried.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The first few chapters of this fic will be me setting a scene before the actual plot starts. Thor inspired the context of this fic, but I changed things to it would be able to fit as a Harry Potter AU. This is a Draco centric fic, and I'm afraid Harry won't show up until a bit later. The summary probably will change as I write more. 
> 
> (Also, Draco being autistic isn't really that relevant to the story, it's just how I characterised him)

  
The wind was harsh and bitter as King Elias Parkinson, ruler of the Kingdom of Slytherin, gazed over the remains of what was once a beautiful place he ruled. Now, it was desolate. Wherever he looked he saw remains of Riddle's army, their hands still clutching at the spears of ice. Riddle's army had taken over the Kingdom when he had been just a boy, and under the rule of his father, Slytherin's people decided who they wanted to be ruled by. For years they had lived in a tense peace, knowing that it only took one person to make a false move for them to be at war. That had been exactly what had happened - a Death Eater, as Riddle's army called themselves, had murdered three people in his Kingdom, and he had immediately taken action against them. Riddle hadn't been as strong as he thought he was, because he had perished in a matter of mere months. Parkinson had been expecting the war to last decades, maybe even centuries. He certainly hadn't envisioned victory to come so soon.

 

He turned to his second in command, Nott, when he suddenly heard a wail. He paused in his step, listening carefully. A few moments later it came again, thin and reedy and full of desperation. It didn't sound like someone who was injured, it sounded like a child who longed for its mother. His hand tightened on his sword as he cautiously walked towards the sound. It was coming from the sacred temple, he realised.

 

Gesturing at Nott to follow him, he made his way inside. The wailing increased in volume as he descended further down into the temple. When he reached the bottom of the steps, the sight that he was met with was enough to shock him into silence.

 

The room was made completely of ice, from the walls to the ceiling and floor. A blonde woman lay against the wall, her skin tinted blue and blood seeping from a stab wound in her chest. She had been dead for a while, but that wasn't what had shocked him so. An altar stood in the middle of the room, carved from stone, and surrounded in furs on top of it lay a baby. His skin was tinted blue like the woman's, and Elias wasn't sure if it was from the cold or if it was simply natural. The baby's sobs quietened as he approached the altar, and were silenced completely when he plucked the baby from the furs and held him to his chest. The baby snuggled into his cloak and sighed, and Elias watched in fascination as the blue tint of his skin vanished and was replaced with a sickly pale pallor. The baby's eyes opened and Elias found himself staring into serious grey eyes, before they slipped closed again.

 

"Is that the Malfoy son?" Nott queried from behind him. King Parkinson glanced at the body and then back on the boy in his arms and nodded.

 

"I believe so." He said.

 

In Riddle's Kingdom, he may have been the leader of the army and controlled almost everything, but they still had a King and a Queen. The Malfoy's, Lucius and Narcissa. Before Lucius Malfoy it had been Abraxas, and after Lucius it should of been the son he was cradling in his arms. But then the war came, and Lucius and his wife were killed and their son left to die. He didn't feel guilty about what he had done, the Malfoy's had been just as dangerous as Riddle, threatening to destroy other more Primitive worlds and Kingdoms. He had only been doing what was right.

 

He knew, from the moment he had seen the baby lying in the furs, what he was going to do. What the right thing was. A lesser ruler might have left him to starve next to his mother, but King Parkinson was not a lesser ruler.

 

"Not anymore." He murmured, both to the baby and Nott. "From now on, the boy is my son, and will be treated as such. He will be raised by my wife and I, sister to Pansy." Freya Parkinson had always wanted more than one child, and after Pansy had wanted her second child to be a boy.

 

Nott nodded curtly. "I'll Obliviate the rest of the men when we get back. It wouldn't be good to have them talk about the boy's parentage." King Parkinson waved him away, staring down at the baby for a few seconds more. He couldn't help but wonder what he would grow up to be. Would he be like him and Freya, or would he take after his biological parents?

 

Only time would be able to tell.

 

   

* * *

 

 

The boy, as it turned out, had a different biology to them, they found out when they took him to a trusted Healer. Healer Andromeda had informed that although he looked male, he also had the ability to carry children when he was older, even though she predicted that he would take on a more masculine form in later life. She suggested that they should raise him as they would any other boy, and tell him he was just born like it.

 

Healer Andromeda also informed them that the boy was not half frozen, no matter what his skin looked like. He was born for the cold temperatures. The only thing truly ailing him was the lack of malnutrition, which they started providing in steady quantities as soon as he had arrived him with him.

 

Elias and Freya had decided to name the boy Draco. They announced the birth of the second royal child and the first prince two weeks after he had found him in that temple. The boy was welcomed with a parade in his honour, one that he had cried at. Draco cried a lot. Certainly more than Pansy ever had when she had been his age. But, the King supposed it was justified. The boy had been left to die in a temple alone. It was natural that he was upset at times.

 

Pansy had been absolutely delighted when Freya had told her of her new baby brother and had demanded to see him straight away. It had been two days after he had returned with him, and the memory of his daughter cradling the frail body of his son was forever seared into his mind.

 

"Mama!" Pansy had exclaimed when Draco reached up and tugged at a lock of her hair. "He likes me!" She giggled.

 

"He certainly does." He had said as he bent down to her level and placed a kiss on her forehead. "And that means that, as a big sister, you need to protect your little brother."

 

"I will, Papa, I promise!" Freya ruffled her hair and shared a fond look with him. Draco fitted into their little family perfectly.

 

   

* * *

 

The first true difference the King was able to make out between his daughter and his son was the lack of speech. Decades after the boy had been taken from Riddle's Kingdom, he still hadn't spoken a word. In mortal years the boy was around the age of two, and he rarely made sound, except for the constant, ear-splitting crying.

 

Pansy had been babbling long before, but Draco just didn't. He would scream and cry until somebody held him close, but he never made any attempt to copy the words they said to him. Healer Andromeda had checked him over and said that Draco's hearing was fine and that there was nothing wrong with his vocal cords.

 

They had all tried, even Pansy, and nothing had worked. The King and Queen had talked it over one night. He believed it would pass quickly and it would merely be a blip, but Freya hadn't been so sure.

 

"There's something different about him, Elias. I can sense it. He needs help, or he'll be isolated forever."

 

But there was no one to help. Healer Andromeda did her best, but this wasn't a physical injury she could fix, and nor would it be fixed with kindness. They would just have to wait, and hope that he would snap out of whatever it was that was holding him in such a silence.

 

   

* * *

 

 

Another difference the King made between his children was how clingy Draco was. He was always around his mother or sister, and often wanted to be around him too. He had thought it was like Draco's silence, a blip that would pass, but like the silence, it didn't.

 

He was away from his family most times in the day, running a Kingdom. Whenever Freya was seen in the palace or the grounds, it was always with a tiny shadow that clung to her hand, usually sucking his thumb or the tail of the fluffy dragon toy Freya had made him. He took it everywhere with him, and seemed to be as attached to it as he was to them. Once Pansy had taken it for a light-hearted joke on her brother, and he had erupted into a crying fit that had lasted hours. Even after Pansy had given it back, he still hadn't stopped sobbing. The King often wondered if there was something _wrong_ with Draco.

 

When Draco was five in mortal years, the King started introducing him to the children of other nobles. Theodore Nott, the second in commands son, was a year older than Draco but a year younger than Pansy, and Astoria Greengrass was a little younger than Draco. The other children, Daphne Greengrass, Gregory Goyle, Vincent Crabbe, Blaise Zabini and Millicent Bulstrode, were Pansy's age or a little older. Pansy made friends with every child she was introduced to, Draco however . . . Not so much.

 

They had left Draco with Pansy and the other children and hoped Pansy would look after her brother. It wasn't that Pansy would deliberately leave him out of a game, but Draco tended to fade into the background, intentionally or not. Draco not speaking made it _even_ more difficult for him to make friends.

 

Pansy and the other children had played soldiers with wooden swords, while Draco stood slightly off from them, his dragon clutched in one hand, and the other grasped around the handle of a sword that weighed almost as much as him. He was too small to lift it properly off the ground, so he smacked it into the grass instead. Another parent might think that it was an aggressive action, except Draco had the tendency to do odd things that other children just wouldn't do.

 

Pansy gave him a nudge and they traded friendly blows, but the other children stayed away from him. Even after the game was won (by Theodore, having learned from his father how to be a strategist) they still didn't talk to him. Draco hadn't seemed too bothered at the time, but later, at other events with the children, the King could tell that he was bothered by his lack of friends. At royal events where the adults mingled and the children played by themselves, Draco often just vanished and was found hours later by a guard, curled up somewhere he wasn't supposed to be. It happened so often that the Queen ordered a guard to follow him if he left and make sure he didn't get lost. The guard would then, every time without fail, tell them later how Draco had left after not talking to any of the children and had wandered around the parts of the castle that he wasn't supposed to be in on his own, like the royal court. He had never walked in on a session, but the threat of Draco stumbling upon a sentencing to Azkaban prison was always there, so then Freya made Pansy keep Draco in one place, which usually ended in tears.

 

    

* * *

 

Pansy had grown accustomed to hearing her door creak open in the middle of the night and turning over to see Draco standing there blinking back tears. He had terrible nightmares. She liked that he came to her about it and not Mama or Papa, but she wished they would stop. She didn't like seeing her baby brother in tears, and never got used to it no matter how many times he cried. Theo had said to her once that Draco cried more than any boy should ever, and Pansy had to agree. She had never cried that much.

 

Pansy pulled back the covers at Draco's tear streaked face, and then wrapped her arms around him as he snuggled into her chest. She stayed like that for ages, and as she was drifting off she heard a tiny voice whisper,

 

"P-Pansy?"

 

Pansy shot up and faced her baby brother, whose face was half hidden by the dragon toy which he had with him all the time.

 

"Draco? D-Did you just say-?"

 

"Pansy." He said firmly, his voice croaky and quiet.

 

Pansy wanted to leap out of bed and run to Mama and Papa's room to tell them about Draco finally saying his first word, but she didn't. For a few hours, she wanted to keep it to herself, like a special secret. She liked keeping secrets. She wrapped her arms around him again and pulled the blankets around him and stroked his hair until he drifted off into sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Three weeks after Draco had said his first word, his magic had made itself known.

 

It was one of the rare days where the court was not in session, and he was in one of the palace's many gardens with his wife and children. Freya was embroidering  a piece of cloth that would later become Pansy's cloak, and he was watching his children play.

 

The difference between Draco when he was around other children to when he was around just them never failed to shock him. Around the other children Draco was silent, often forgotten about, sometimes even by Pansy. He had urged her to always include Draco in their games, and make the others be nice to him. He knew she never wanted to hurt her brother, but he also knew that Pansy couldn't control what the others said or did. Freya had often found him wandering the palace looking for her, or curled up by himself in some unknown corner after the other children had mocked him. It may have just been a friendly jest, but Draco was ever so sensitive, and didn't understand when people were joking or not. His quiet and sensitive nature further drove a wedge between him and the other children. Apart from Pansy, Draco truly had no friends.

 

Now, playing with Pansy under his watchful eye, Draco giggles. It's a sound that he rarely hears, that _anybody_ rarely hears, and it's all down to Pansy. Pansy never minded that her brother was so small or sensitive, she hadn't minded him not speaking. If he came from the court and Draco wasn't with his wife, then he would he clinging to Pansy, hanging onto her every word. Draco hero-worshipped his sister.

 

Draco laughs louder as Pansy's fingers tickle his up and down his sides, arms flailing wildly.

 

"Pansy!" He gasps breathlessly. Pansy laughs as she drags her fingers around the backs of his kneecaps. Draco bucks out of her grasp, almost tripping over himself, and runs through the rose bushes, still giggling. Pansy gives chase and runs from their sight, on her brother's heels.

 

"I do worry about him, Elias." Freya says when they're gone, putting down the cloth. "Do you think we should tell him, who he really is?"

 

"No." He decides firmly. "When he's older and has found his footing in our Kingdom, then we will tell him. He's too young to understand why he's different."

 

"Too young to understand why he's different, but old enough to understand that he is different." The Queen murmurs. "He already knows, you know, that he is different from us. He asked me the other day why he was different to Pansy, after his bath, and I told him it was because he was a boy and she was a girl. But then he said, 'No, Mama, why do I have both?' He knows, Elias. He's smarter than you think."

 

But still, he shakes his head. "He's too young. What if he let it slip to the other children? The court would want him dead. When the Malfoy's are no longer regarded with such contempt, then we will tell him, and if he wants to tell the others than he can."

 

Freya looks as if she's about to say more, but then there's shriek from the rose bushes and Pansy runs out from one of them, dragging Draco behind her. Draco is clutching a rose in his hand and looks astonished. Pansy yanks him before them and then gestures to him, too excited to speak.

 

"Look! Mama, Papa, look what Draco did!" And then the King realises why the rose in his hand looks so odd.

 

The roses in the garden have not yet bloomed, or even grown fully, but the one Draco clutches in his hand is tall and flowered. Draco stares at it and then they watch as the pink bleeds from the petals and they turn to grey.

 

 _Magic_.

 

The King had waited for this day and had feared for it. Lucius and Narcissa had been accomplished mages, magic being the accepted form of power in Riddle's Kingdom, but in Slytherin's Kingdom, strength and resilience was power. Magic was seen as lowly and cheating, especially for a man. The only reason his own magic wasn't looked down upon was because of the royal blood running through his veins. And for Draco to have his magic manifest at such a young age meant that it would only grow as he got older.

 

It was a double edged sword - his magic would make him powerful, but it would only isolate him more. The children born in his Kingdom showed magic by healing faster and being more strong. Draco's magic did nothing of the sort, his magic was the kind used for trickery and deceit.

 

He wants to tell the boy, for his own good, to never practise his magic in front of other people, to keep it locked inside himself and stop himself from being isolated further.

 

But Draco is sporting a look of absolute wonder on his face, and it strikes him that it's the happiest he has ever seen his youngest. So he doesn't tell him, and decades later he regrets it.  
 

   

* * *

 

 

He is used to seeing Draco in tears, but not like this, not when there is no clear reason for the boy to be so inconsolable.

 

Freya sent word to the royal court of his son being extremely upset a few hours ago, and he got away as soon as he could. He expects the boy to be better and more coherent when he reaches his private rooms. His expectations are smashed  when he hears muffled sobs through the wood of the door.  He opens them softly but loud enough for Freya to be aware of his presence. Draco isn't coherent enough to take in much around him.

 

He's curled into Freya's lap, small fingers gripping the fabric of her gown, his face pressed into her chest as he cries. Freya looks as if she might cry herself.

 

"I don't know what's wrong," Freya says over his cries, "he's been crying all day."

 

Draco sometimes has fits of inconsolable sadness and fear, and Elias can't help but think that a small part of him, or maybe just his instincts, remembers being abandoned and left to die in the cold. In those times Draco will run to Freya and refuse to be around anyone else but her for hours. Elias thinks she is mollycoddling the boy, but lets her, for he has no other solution that would work.

 

Elias waits until Draco's sobs have quietened and he is sitting silently in his wife's lap before he speaks, and when he does his voice is almost a whisper

 

"Draco, what's wrong?" Draco either doesn't hear him or pretends not to. He buries his face further into Freya's gown and she shakes her head at him. He isn't getting any answers right now, maybe not even today. Draco is silent after his episodes, and the King often wonders how the Malfoy's would of dealt with them. Would they let him cry or would they of beat it out of him? It makes him grateful that Draco lived with them and not his real parents. The Malfoy's were known for wanting only the best, only the most perfect of things. 

 

By Malfoy standards Draco is neither.

  

  

* * *

 

He knew that Draco was picked on by the other children when Pansy wasn't looking. Seeing it is something else entirely.

 

He is concealed by his magic as he watches his children play. He needs to see how Draco was doing. He knew he had trouble with the other children, but Draco had begun disappearing through out the day with his sister, and he hoped that he might finally be making friends with the other children.  But from what he has seen so far, his hopes are slowly being dashed.

 

Pansy is talking with the others at a fast pace, gesturing wildly. Draco is looking at no one but her, a look of adoration on his face. Pansy could be talking about something completely mundane and Draco would still be astounded by it. He loves his sister with such adoration that the King fears for the day when Pansy won't want a silent shadow.

 

Pansy waves her hand at Draco and his face lights up, even as he catches one of the other children snicker. Pansy snaps something at the snickering boy, who he recognises as Gregory Goyle, and the boy snaps his jaw shut, glaring at Draco as if it is somehow his fault.

  
He watches as Pansy goes on and Draco rubs his face on the fur of the dragon. He's too old to be carting around childish toys like that, but he and Freya are loath to take it off him. Draco would misunderstand and think he was being punished, which would most likely lead to another crying fit. For now it was just easier to let him have it.

 

The other children and Pansy suddenly scampered off in different directions, leaving Draco alone with Gregory, who's eyeing Draco up in a way that makes the Kings stomach twist. Draco must sense it too, because he turns, as if to run, but Gregory's hand darts out and wrenches him around. The King wants to put a stop to it instantly, but a horrible feeling is keeping him in place. He recognises it as need. A need to know _how far_ Gregory will go.

 

He regrets his decision not to intervene when Gregory abruptly smacks Draco across the face, violent enough for Draco's head to snap to the side. Draco gasps, fat tears welling up and pouring down his face. Gregory releases him with a push that sends him tumbling into the grass, and then sneers at him and flees after the other children.

 

Draco lays on the ground, panting and sobbing as quietly as he can. After a few moments he stands and brushes the dirt from his tunic. He slowly brings a hand to his reddened cheek and lets out a soft whimper at the aftershock of the sharp pain. The King knows there will be a bruise across his face tomorrow; Draco bruises ever so easily.

 

The King wants to go to him and comfort him, but he can't think of what to say. What can he say? There is nothing he can say that won't be a lie, and he detests lying to his youngest. He has already done it enough.

 

When the King finally thinks of something to say, Draco has already left the garden. He doubts that the other children even notice his absence.

 

  

* * *

 

 

A week after the incident in the garden he is relieved from court duty early. He walks with the intention of finding Freya to tell her about the royals from the Kingdom of Ravenclaw visiting, and checks the library, expecting to find it empty. Before he even steps over the threshold he can already sense the extraordinary power coming from someone within the walls.

 

He proceeds quietly, not wanting to disrupt Draco (he knows it can be no one else), and watches Draco practise from between bookshelves.

 

Draco flicks his wrists and a clone of him appears in front of him, the same height and the same sombre expression. It flickers once but stays solid, and Elias finds himself yet again shocked at Draco's power. Draco flicks his wrists and the illusion vanishes immediately. Draco pulls one of the books opened on the table towards him and reads over a section before flicking his wrists again. A clone of himself appears again, but this time it moved, its hand raising before it flickers out of existence.

 

"Draco," He says as he turns the corner. Draco jumps in his seat and turns quickly towards him, the books in front of him forgotten. "what are you doing?" He nods to the books and acts ignorant towards Draco's earlier displays of magic. Draco shrugs, defensive.

 

"Nothing." He says quietly.

 

"Draco," He says, more sternly than he had intended. Draco's eyes are already tearing and he knows he needs to say something to rectify the situation.

 

"Have you seen your sister?" He asks. Draco shakes his head.

 

"She - They left to p-play. They didn't want. . ." He leaves the _me_ unsaid, yet it wears heavy on the King's heart. He needed to have a talk with his daughter about leaving his brother out of  her games. She is at that age where she is beginning to yield to the peer pressure of her friends, which often means that Draco was excluded and left to amuse himself. Draco held the look of indifference around them, and he had almost fooled him on some occasions, but he would catch him with a look of unbearable sadness as he wandered the grounds, alone apart from the dragon.

 

"I'm about to take a walk around the grounds. Would you care to join me?"

 

Draco's eyes are bright as he blinks at him. It isn't often that he gets time alone with his son. He reaches out a large hand and Draco grips it tight.

 

They walk until the sun begins to set, and the King relays all the recent (age appropriate) stories of the court, and Draco whispers about Professor Snape helping with his magic and his potion work. Neither of them mention Pansy or her friends.

 

He means to catch Pansy after dinner to talk to her, but he gets caught up in telling Freya about the Ravenclaw Royals and it slips his mind. When he remembers again, it is days later, and once again he finds Draco by himself in the library. This time, he doesn't go to him. The court is demanding his presence, and although he would rather spend it with his son, he has a duty to his Kingdom.


	3. Chapter 3

The Ravenclaw Royals' visited in the spring, dressed in fine blues and gold's.

 

Elias and Freya greeted them when they came out of the portal. The Ravenclaw Royals' consisted of King Han, Queen Lihua, and Princess Cho. Elias, two old friends, shook hands and talked jovially while they walked back to the palace through the city, where Professor Snape was waiting with Pansy and Draco. Pansy had wanted to meet them straight away and Draco, well, Draco hadn't wanted to meet them at all. Professor Snape had offered to watch them until they arrived at the palace to give Draco time to calm down. Elias hoped Draco would be calm enough to hold at least one conversation with the Ravenclaw Royals.

 

Elias spotted his children as they neared the palace. Pansy was waving at them, and he raised his hand and waved back. Draco was standing behind her, his face hidden by the dragon which he had insisted on bringing with him. Snape has his hand on Draco's shoulder and is speaking to him, and Draco shakes his head at something he said. Draco shrugs Snape's hand off his shoulder as they entered the first wall of the palace courtyard. He stands stiffly as they approach, shoulders hunched.

 

"Hello, I'm Pansy!" Pansy greeted them, shaking Cho's hand. Cho was only a few years older than Pansy, and she smiled happily at the Princess, likely grateful to have found someone to talk with throughout the visit.

 

"And this is my brother, Draco." Draco's face flushed red as all eyes turned to him. Freya coughed subtly, and Elias quickly averted their attentions by talking about a new defence plan that would align the Kingdom's. Their attention switched to him and Draco reached up and clung to Freya's hand, occasionally glancing at Pansy and Cho, who walked ahead slightly.

 

It reminds Freya of every other time Draco had been introduced to other children, every other time he had tried, and then failed, to make a friend. Draco was just so painfully shy, and his quiet and withdrawn nature around strangers only worsened his difficulties. But maybe, maybe the Ravenclaw Princess would be kind, and maybe Draco would make a friend, or at least an acquataince.

 

* * *

 

 

One of her children made friends with the Ravenclaw Princess. The other did not.

 

Pansy is by her side one evening, chatting about the games she had played with the Princess, and the things she had told her about her Kingdom. They used eagles to deliver messages, not messenger boys' or ravens. Pansy also tells her how Cho knows a boy from the Kingdom of Hufflepuff, a place known notoriously for being kind and civil with neighbouring Kingdoms.

 

Half way through, the door to the Queen's rooms creaks open, and a small head of white hair peers inside. Pansy doesn't notice her brother. She keeps talking, and Freya makes to interrupt her, but when she looks back at the door, Draco is gone.

      
    

* * *

 

On Pansy's first day of weapons training, she had won against every opponent but one, that being Theodore Nott. Gregory and Vincent had been up before her, and hadn't stood a chance. Pansy genuinely liked weapons training, even if she lost. It was all good practise, she would say.

 

When he told Draco that he was scheduled to begin his weapons training the following week, the boy had gone even paler than usual, and had abruptly finished his meal. He knew Draco feared weapons training. He would go so far to say that Draco was terrified of it. But Draco had to start soon, or his people would get suspicious about the Prince not training, and it would lead to people saying Draco was too weak to fight, and then it would lead to him being picked on more by the other children.

 

It was a horrible cycle.

 

From across the table, Elias can see the slight tremble in Draco's hands. Draco makes no attempt to eat his breakfast, instead staring sullenly into the bowl. Pansy is talking happily about her own session today, clearly excited, but Draco just gets more pale by the second. He wants to go to his son and take it back, say that he doesn't have to do weapons training, not until he's ready, but it would be worse for Draco if he gave in.

 

Not for the first time, he wonders if they make their children grow up too fast, if they make them become warriors and chose their paths too early.

 

Draco follows Elias and Pansy down to the training rings, with Freya behind them, ready to catch Draco if he decides to run. He doesn't, luckily, though the King is seriously concerned that Draco might faint on the spot when they reach the training rings. Pansy places a quick kiss to Draco's forehead before she runs off to join her group of friends.

 

He had talked it over with Nott Senior, and it was decided that Draco would start with children younger than him, like Astoria Greengrass. Although Astoria and Daphne were girls, their parents wanted them to have a basic understanding of how to protect themselves.

 

Elias and Freya sat in the seats above the ring, and watched their children with trepidation. Pansy was doing matches against the boys and Daphne, and won most of them. Pansy picked up on fighting skills quickly and easily, and was already a respected fighter amongst even the older children.

 

Nott Senior was instructing Draco on how to hold a sword properly, and even from a distance Elias can tell that he's getting frustrated. Draco keeps bending his fingers the wrong way, or his grip isn't tight enough. After a few minutes Nott nods and goes on to instruct Astoria and the other children, who clearly understand it much quickly than Draco does. Nott starts teaching them moves with the swords, the most simplest of tricks; Elias looses count of the amount of times Draco drops the sword on accident. The other children laugh, and if Draco were any other child he would laugh with them and put it down to it being his first day of weapons training.

 

Except Draco is not any other child, and Elias can see how upset he's getting. He wants to put a stop to it, Freya's tight grip on his hand telling him that she agrees, but he constantly reminds himself that it will be better for Draco in the long run.

 

It takes a turn for the worse when Nott orders them to pair up. Draco ends up being paired with Astoria, and for that he is grateful. They might not of been friends, but she wasn't a nasty child. Nott orders them to start fighting their partners, and he watches as the sword is smacked out of Draco's hand over and over. Nott switches the pairs around, and the other, more nasty children take delight in pushing him over and bruising him. By the end of the session Draco is bruised and humiliated.

 

Draco doesn't speak again that night, but Pansy tells him that morning, while Draco is in Freya's quarters, that he came into her room that night and cried, and this time she didn't think it was just because of a nightmare.

 

"Look out for your brother, Pansy." He tells her, just as he has many times before.

 

"I do, father, it's just - he's so _strange_." There's no malice in her tone. Pansy is only stating the honest truth. Draco is strange, he is by far the strangest child he has ever known.

 

   

* * *

 

That morning had been host to one of Draco's crying fits. Freya had gone to wake him when he had not come down to breakfast, and had been greeted with the sight of Draco sobbing hysterically on his bedroom floor, still in his pyjamas and half-wrapped in his blankets which had been pulled from his bed.

 

Freya had wanted to excuse him from training that day, but Elias had refused. If they gave in whenever Draco was upset, then he would surely begin to use it to his advantage. He's a little late in taking Draco to the training rings, but Nott Senior takes one look at Draco's red-rimmed eyes and nods. He doesn't know everything, but knows and understands more than most do.

 

Somehow Draco does even worse in training than he usually does. He's falling behind the other children, but there's nowhere else they can put him. Draco is in the lowest group, and he's failing that, too.

 

Elias looks over at Pansy, laughing, carefree, as she smacks the sword out of Blaise's hand, and wonders how two children could be so different.

 

"This isn't working!" Freya hisses beside him, her hazel eyes fixed on Draco.

 

"What else do you suggest, my love? This is the lowest group. There's nowhere else where we can put him." He says wearily. Freya sighs angrily.

 

"With me! I can teach him in a way he can understand. He's barely strong to hold that sword off the ground, Elias. I can teach him ways to fight that his magic can respond to. Here, he's only learning humiliation and defeat."

 

"It would only isolate -"

 

"He's already isolated, you fool!" Freya snaps. She doesn't snap often, and when she does he knows to listen carefully. "He speaks to no one outside of the three of us. The children dislike him greatly. They know he's different, somehow." Her voice is etched with sorrow.

 

"If he was more like Pansy -" He starts, only to be swiftly cut off by Freya.

 

"Pansy and Draco are not the same though, are they? It's unwise to place the same expectations on children so different. Pansy may flourish under your expectations, and we both know that Draco does not." Freya looks as if she wants to say more, but Nott is shouting and it draws both their attentions.

 

Nott Senior gestures at his son, who was waiting to spar with Vincent. He jogs over to his father, who whispers something to him and points a hand at Draco. Theodore steps into the ring and rounds on Draco. From what Elias can understand from a distance, the Army General and his second in command wants to get his son to help Draco. It doesn't do any good. Draco is covered in tiny cuts from where Theodore's sword nicked him, and bruised from being pushed over so many times.

 

Theodore swings with much more force than necessary, and Draco rolls across the ground, his tunic torn, blood seeping through the material. Theodore sneers at him and yells about how weak the Prince is, and Draco struggles to stand. His nose is bloody, and Elias thinks it's from where he landed badly -

 

But then he feels a crackle of something, a burn of something powerful seeping through the air,

 

"Salazar," Freya whispers breathlessly, seconds before Theodore goes flying through the air, landing on his back with a thud. Draco stumbles over to him, hands out stretched, and they watch in horror as Draco's hands begins to glow a vivid green, and Theodore shrieks as Draco hits him in the nose. Hard enough for the bone to break. Harder than Draco should be able to hit. Draco flicks his wrists and Theodore is thrown around the ring for a second time, shouting at someone to stop Draco.

 

"I'm n-not weak!" Draco cries, the light in his hands beginning to fade. Pansy comes running from the other training ring and yanks her brother backwards, screaming.

 

By this time the King and Queen are at the edge of the ring, and Nott Senior is helping his son sit up, staring at Draco with outright distrust. Elias prays to his ancestors that Draco's burst of anger won't make him let slip the truth of Draco's parentage. He can hear the children whispering behind him. _Mage_ and _witch_ and _trickster_ are among the words he makes out.

 

Pansy's arms are wrapped around her brother, his shoulders shaking against her chest. She's looking at them for answers, fear in her eyes evident, even as she holds Draco close.

 

Elias is unnerved by the sudden amount of power in Draco's outburst. That's putting it lightly. He knew Draco had been practising his magic, Snape had told him so and he had seen it himself when Draco thought he was alone. But Draco's magic is far too strong for someone so young. _Far_ too strong. It took decades for his own magic to fester in such quantities. Draco is gifted in a way that other mages in his Kingdom are not. Draco was born with his magic, whereas others had to learn it.

 

Grudgingly, he may admit that it was impressive, he thinks as Pansy leads Draco from the ring with Freya.

 

He would never admit that it also scared him.


	4. Chapter 4

Two days after Draco's outburst word had spread throughout the Kingdom of the Prince's strong magic. Few, very few, said that it was impressive for someone so young. Many did not, and called the Prince the spawn of evil, the weakling trickster. He shielded it from Draco best he could by keeping him in the palace, but Draco is too smart for his own good, and the King knows that Draco knows what they are saying about him. Or, he at least has a vague notion of it.

 

Draco had apologized to Theo whilst the older boy had been in the hospital wing, so genuinely upset that it made the King's heart ache. Theo accepted it with a curt nod, but the King knew from the grim expression he wore that it wasn't quite over yet. Theo was planning something.

 

Nott Senior had quietly requested to speak with him, and then had said that he didn't think it would be a good idea if Draco were to train under him. He had said that it wasn't just because of what happened with his son, but also because Draco simply wasn't built for their kind of warfare. He echoed Freya's words by saying that all Draco was learning was defeat.

 

Elias couldn't help but agree.

 

   

* * *

 

 

As Draco neared the age of nine in mortal years and Pansy neared the age of twelve, she started favouring her friends over her little brother. Years of her friends picking on him had warped her perception on him, and it didn't help that Draco's magic had improved to him being one of the most powerful sorcerers in the Kingdom, second only to the King himself, even at such a young age.

 

Freya will never forget that day she stumbled across the doors to his quarters, wide open. Since Draco started learning more complex spells the doors to his rooms usually remain warded shut. There have been instances were her eldest has come running to her, with burns upon her fingertips for not obeying the wards. It was impressive, for a child his age, she would admit that he was learning more rapidly than any other child.

 

A feeling of unease comes over her as she walks over the threshold, seeming to set off no wards at all. She stands in the foyer of his quarters, and all she hears is absolute silence. Draco was not a loud child, but she had become used to the sound of pages being turned or his quiet incantations.

 

She walks past his bedroom, hearing nothing from within. She opens the door just to check, and finds it clean and tidy. Pansy's room was always a mess, but Draco's was impeccable, his things ordered in just the way he liked them. He would get ever so distressed if anyone were to move them.

 

Freya finds him in his personal library, curled up in an armchair and sobbing into his hands, tugging his hair. He doesn't seem to hear her come in, and continues wailing.

 

"Draco," She calls. Draco looks up sharply, tears and snot dribbling down his face.

 

"M-Mother," He stammers, scrubbing at his eyes with his fists, sniffing hard. "Why a-are you here?"

 

"I wanted to see my son," Freya says. She crouches down by his armchair and cups his head in her hands. "What's gotten you in this state? I believed you and Pansy were going into the inner city today?" Pansy had been talking about it for weeks, about how they were planning to go into the inner city to explore (with guards, of course). Freya had been under the impression that Draco would be going with them, and Draco had even expressed his excitement about it to her. She thinks she knows what has happened before Draco even confirms it.

 

"She did - She said s-she," He takes in another gulp of breath, more tears dribbling down his face.

 

"D-Didn't want me with her. S-She said she d-didn't want to go with her." He breaks off in a cry and Freya scoops him up into her arms. Draco's legs wrap around her waist, his arms come up around her neck and he buries his head in her shoulder. She rubs his back soothingly as he cries.

 

When he sniffs for the last time, she takes Draco to her gardens, and she teaches him magic that isn't in his books.

 

And decades later, if she sees him mocking Pansy's friends with it, well, she's hardly responsible for what he chooses to do.

 

   

* * *

 

Pansy thinks it is odd, the way Draco trails after he daily, always wanting to be around her, always wanting to play with her or show him some magic he learned. It's not that his magic isn't impressive or that she despises his presence, it's just that she thinks Draco should spend more time with his own friends.

 

But when she thinks hard about it, she realises that she has never actually seen Draco with another child that wasn't one of her friends. It unsettles her a little, however she refuses to dwell on it.

 

It didn't matter so much when they were younger. Babies were supposed to be clingy and cry a lot. Draco had just never grown out of his clingy-crybaby stage. She said that to him once, not meaning to hurt his feelings, but just as a fact, a ' _really, brother, how are they supposed to make friends with you if you don't talk and act like a clingy-crybaby'_. It had just made him cry and cling to Mother more.

 

His magic doesn't help much, either. His magic is impressive, more impressive than any magic she has ever seen. She knows that Father has more magic than Draco, but he is the King and doesn't have much time to show her illusions and tricks. When Draco was first learning his magic he would follow her around to show her, and although it was better than the magic she could do, it wasn't _right_ for a boy. Boys were meant to be strong warriors, not dainty things who dallied in magic. He wasn't even strong enough to lift a sword properly. He was so bad at fighting that even General Nott didn't want to teach him anymore, and Mother had had to take over.

 

She loves her brother, but sometimes she wishes he wasn't so -

 

so -

 

 _Unlike_ everyone else. Wishes he wasn't so strange. Sometimes she wished he could be like the others so that he could fit in more.

 

    

* * *

 

 

This time, when she hears a knock on her bedroom door, she doesn't open it. She doesn't roll over to greet her brother. She stays exactly where she is, tucked under the covers.

 

"Pansy?" He whispers, taking a step towards her bed. "Pansy?"

 

"Go away, Draco." Pansy says tiredly. She hears Draco swallow. "You're grown up enough to sleep in your own room." She snaps when Draco doesn't move.

 

Draco stumbles away from her bed, muttering apologies as he leaves, and Pansy can hear the thickness of his voice.

 

After that night Draco never comes back to her room. In the morning she often sees him with purple bags under his eyes, shrugging his shoulders sullenly whenever one of them asks him if he is alright.

 

She has no idea why the long nights of silence make her eyes sting sometimes. She did the right thing, she whispers to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a warning but there's going to be some gory stuff in the next chapter (or the one after).


	5. Chapter 5

The King watches Draco fight with his wife from the shadows with shock. It had been several years since Draco had trained with the other children, and his skills had rapidly evolved. Whereas Pansy's fighting style was harsh and blunt, Draco's was sly and crafty, calling his magic to him to help him win. He had no doubt that if Draco used this much skill in an actual fight, along with his powerful magic, that he would win.

 

Draco was strong - but not in the way his Kingdom wanted. He had no doubt that Draco's magic would have been greatly celebrated in Riddle's Kingdom, as would his intelligence.

 

Severus Snape, the only potion master in the Kingdom's and Draco's favourite tutor, had told them about Draco's marks being above average for students his age. Snape had he could easily envision Draco becoming a potions master himself one day, a job that was hardly easy.

 

The King was proud of his son, but he knew Draco struggled to see it. He knew Draco thought lowly of himself. Draco's biggest flaw was that he compared himself to others too often - and with Draco being so different, how could he not think lowly of himself? He had attempted to speak to Draco about these things in the past - the way all fathers do with their sons, however, Draco had just brushed  him off and refused to speak of it. Talking to Pansy was easier, he understood her much better. He had been like her when he was a boy, outgoing,  strong-willed, and slightly hard-headed at times. Draco was so much different. He was smart and quiet, avoided conflict like the plague and preferred the library to the outside world.

 

Reminding himself that he has actual duties, he leaves his place in the doorway. On his way down to the throne room he sees Pansy and her friends sparring happily, and tries to think of the last time his other child looked so carefree. It disturbs him to no end that he can't think of a memory.

 

   

* * *

 

 

When she is at the age of thirteen in mortal years, Pansy stands at a head taller than Draco. At her birthing day celebrations people laugh and cheer with her, telling her what a brave warrior she will be. Freya knows it's true. Pansy takes after her father in that aspect. She is already a brilliant warrior.

 

The same thing happens at Draco's celebrations when he turns the equivalent of the age eleven. People laugh and cheer, but not with him. It's as if they have forgotten completely about the prince. Draco sits next to Freya, stiff as a board as he watches Pansy mingle with the nobles, as if it's her celebration all over again. It's not that she means to be spiteful and rub it in Draco's face that they like her more than him, she likely doesn't realise that Draco hadn't spoken to anyone since the feast had started.

 

Freya knows that Draco despises them and would much rather be in his rooms, or at least have a smaller celebration with just the three of them, without the noise and the tremendous amount of people. He hates large crowds of people, and Freya thinks a part of that hatred came from being so constantly excluded. Draco's fingers are clenched tight around his cutlery as he pushes food around his plate. He flinches when someone laughs loudly and Freya gently places a hand on his. Draco doesn't look up, he doesn't need to. She knows that it's getting too much for him, that he's getting overwhelmed. She nods to him once and, almost silently, he stands and leaves the room, hurrying when he nears the grand doorway.

 

Freya can't follow him; they don't notice the absence of the Prince, but they would the Queen. She stays until the early hours of the morning when the celebration finally ends. Not one of the nobles asked after the prince, like it had slipped their minds as to why they were there in the first place. Only Nott Senior seemed to notice his absence, his eyes wandering the room when he saw the empty chair.

 

Freya goes to Draco's quarters when they have left, carefully undoing the wards. She is the only person who can with ease, not even Elias can do it as quickly as she can, and Pansy doesn't know nearly enough magic.

 

She slips through the doors and goes straight to his bedroom, opening the door quietly on the off chance that he is actually asleep.

 

He looks up as she enters, legs under the blankets with a book open on his lap. She recognises it as the book on magical theory that Elias had acquired for him. It's a big book, nearing six thousand pages, so she suspects it will last at least a couple of weeks.

 

"Mother," He says hoarsely, as if he has been crying. It breaks Freya's heart to hear.

 

"Draco," She says, "I just came to see if you were alright." Draco's gaze dropped back to his book and he shrugs.

 

"I'm fine." It's a blatant lie and they both know it.

 

"Are you sure?" She asks, uncertain of how to begin a conversation about Draco's obvious sadness. For a fleeting moment she wonders if Draco feels like this all the time, desperate for a conversation but oblivious about how to start one.

 

"I'm fine," He smiles at her, suddenly pulling every other emotion from his features, his face showing no other expression. He's a frighteningly good actor. If she hadn't already known something was wrong, she would of believed him instantly.

 

She sits on the edge of his bed and they talk until dawn. Not about the things she needs to talk to him about; instead they discuss magical theory. She promises to take Draco to Kingdom of Ravenclaw, to see the works they have on magical theorem. Even if they can't go, for whatever reason, she promises to at least get some from Queen Lihua.

 

   

* * *

 

Pansy had been looking for ages. Her little brother was good at hiding when he wanted to be. It made her remember those times when they played hide and seek as children, and Draco was so hard to find that her friends gave up and played another game.

 

It had been early that morning when she had suddenly been overcome with the desire to talk to her little brother, having not set eyes on him for a couple of days. He hadn't come down to dinner or breakfast when she was eating, and Mother had assumed that he was busy with his studies. To her it seemed to be the only thing her brother actually did.

 

She checks his quarters, and although she can't open the doors something tells her she isn't even in them. She wanders the palace and looks in the library, and finds it oddly empty. If Draco wasn't in his personal library, he was always in the family one.

 

Sighing to herself, she decided to search the grounds. She knew that he had to be out in them somewhere.

 

After an hour of wandering aimlessly she asks a guard if they could point her in his direction. The guard had bowed to her and then said he believed he had seen Prince Draco in Queen Freya's garden some time ago. Pansy thanks him and then jogs to her Mother's garden, wondering how she missed him when she looked earlier.

 

"Draco?" She calls, running through the rose bushes. "I know you're here," She says, even though she's beginning to doubt it.

 

She stops by the fountain, turning her head when she hears a sniffle over the sound of running water.

 

"Draco?" She walks in the direction of the noise, stepping through the thorny rose bushes. She hears it again, muffled, and pulls back a tree branch and spots her brother.

 

He's curled up in the dirt, hunched over with his hand in his mouth to stifle his sobs. He's covered in cuts and bruises, the skin around his eye a deep purple.

 

Pansy feels as if she has just been kicked in the stomach. Anger tears through her, and she marches up to him until she's standing over him.

 

"Who did this to you?" She demanded. Draco shook his head, crying harder. "Draco!" She yells, regretting it instantly when he visibly jolts. He opens his mouth and she gets ready to grab her sword and fight the person who dared do that to her little brother, but no sound comes out. She waits and he tries again, with the same results.

 

"Oh," She understands. Draco has days when he refuses to speak, and Pansy has never understood why, but she has accepted them over the years.

 

"I want to take you to Healer Andromeda."

 

Draco shakes his head again, though. Pansy wants to make him move, yet the only way she could do that is if she physically lifted him up. She probably could if she really wanted to, but Draco would likely never talk to her again, so she settles for kneeling next to him in the dirt, holding him until his sobs relaxed into heavy breathing. 

    ­­­­­­­­

* * *

 

 

"Theodore." Draco whispers to her the next day, under a flawless glamor. He hadn't wanted to tell Father or Mother what had happened and Pansy had, very reluctantly, kept his secret.

 

"Hmm?" She looks up from polishing her sword. Draco swallows nervously.

 

"Theodore. Yesterday. He did it."

 

"You're lying!" She wants to take the words back as soon as they get past her lips, Draco's face crumbling in front of her. She knows Theodore and Draco dislike each other, but Theodore wouldn't do something like that. Maybe Draco had been delirious, or maybe his attacker had been in disguise, because Theodore wouldn't ever do that to Draco.

 

It's too late. Draco is already gathering his books from her bedroom and hurrying out of the room, taking a gasping breath as he goes. Pansy calls out to him, to apologise, but Draco either doesn't hear it or he ignores her.

 

She doesn't see him for a few days. The few times she had tried to get past his wards had left her with singed palms and fingertips. He only lets Mother in a couple of times, and he hears her whispering to Father when they don't now she's there about how he hasn't even left his bed. Father looks to be in despair over what to do with Draco. It's a look she has never seen on  him before, and a look that she knows she likely shares. Except at least she knows why. She won't tell them, though, because if she told them about what she had accidently said to Draco then she would have to tell them about Draco being beaten, and he had made her promise she wouldn't.

 

   

* * *

 

 

She still talks with Theodore, but tries to avoid him as much as possible without arousing suspicion. Even though she knows he couldn't of actually done it something about him starts making her skin crawl.

 

Draco refuses to even speak of it - seeming to shut down when she mentioned it. But she never sees him with any more bruises (that aren't from training) so she guesses that whoever it was, thankfully, decided to stop.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the gory bit is going to be in the next chapter, which is going to be about dracos teenage years. thank you for reading!!


	6. Chapter 6

Her son rarely smiles anymore.

　

Rarely do the corners of his lips turn up in joy, rarely does he laugh unabashedly. On the few occasions he does, it is almost always because of her.

　

Her son has constructed a mask for himself. A sneering mask that warns all to stay away or face painful, powerful magic. He goes about his days alone, watching Pansy wishfully when he thinks she can't see.

　

The quiet little boy who followed her around relentlessly, who clung to her or his sister was still in him somewhere, buried deep down. Draco never lets anyone see the shy boy he used to be, but she knows it's somewhere inside him.

　

His shyness is now mistaken for aloofness or snobbishness. The start calling him The Ice Prince, The Unfeeling Prince, and the irony of it is not lost on her. Her boy does feel, just in a different way to others.

　

He is always alone at royal events, quietly sitting next to her while nobles and fellow royals talk. Pansy will talk with them for hours, and Draco would watch with hidden jealousy.

　

She knows her son better than he knows himself. She knows he desires friends, desires someone to talk to and laugh with, but the other children just don't _like_ him; they never have and they likely never will. He's too quiet to become friendly with the children from other Kingdoms.

　

It makes it worse because the other children know how alone he is, and make his life even harder. There have been days were Draco has bypassed the library because some of Pansy's friends would wait for him under the guise of making friends, only to humiliate him. Pansy would stop them if they went too far under her watch, but often she didn't understand how badly it affected her little brother, or she simply wasn't around to put a stop to her taunting.

　

* * *

 

  
"Draco!" Pansy called to her brother. Draco looked up and smiled at her as she approached. She flopped down heavily into the chair opposite him and looked over the book he was reading and the notes he had made in the margin.

  
"Magical theory?" She guessed. Draco nodded.

  
"Have you been sparring?" He asked, nodding at her bleeding knuckles.

　

"I have, with Gregory and Vincent." Draco nods again, his eyes flicking down to the book and then up to her face. His hands twist under the table, and then she's suddenly staring into herself.

　

"How-?" She breathes, impressed. The clone of herself laughs, voice deeper than hers. She watched as her face peeled away to reveal Draco's smirk.

　

"I'm working on adjusting my voice so it would fit with whoever I'm shifting into."

　

"That's. . . Amazing, Draco." She says, honestly. She doesn't see much of Draco's magic, she's usually with her band of friends and Draco prefers to be by himself, yet it is no less impressive.

　

Draco looks as if he is about to say more, however he is cut off by a thump at the library doors.

　

Theo and Daphne round the corner of one of the bookshelves.

　

"There you are!" Daphne says, ignoring Draco completely. "Why are you here?"

　

"Why wouldn't I be here? I was talking with my brother." She feels herself frown. Across the table Draco was staring down at his book.

　

Daphne chuckles. "No reason, I was just wondering what he could of said that was so interesting."

　

"He was showing me his magic." Pansy explained, glancing at Draco in confusion when he kicked her under the table. His face was red and his eyes were downcast.

　

"Oh, was he?" Theo seemed interested leaning over and peering down at the book. "Looks boring to me."

　

"He was showing me his shape shifting skills." She turned to Draco, "Show him what you just did."

　

"Yeah, go on, show us." Theo said, leaning over him. Daphne joined him, crossing her arms over her chest and staring down at Draco.

　

Draco didn't move, just continued staring down at the book while they stared at him expectantly. His bottom lip trembled, and for a horrible second Pansy thought he was about to have one of his fits.

　

But then he closed his eyes.

　

His hair darkened and grew to his chin, his features softened and his skin took on an olive colour. He opened his eyes, which had turned from grey to a rich brown.

　

"See!" Pansy exclaimed.

　

"It's not likely to help you in battle, though." Daphne commented. Theo scoffed.

　

"Draco isn't the type for battle, though, are you?" Theo grinned. "I expect it's too dirty for our dainty Prince."

　

Draco's face - her face - transformed back into his real body again. His face was still red, and Pansy doesn't know why. His magic isn't going to help in battle, and Draco was dainty. Everyone knew that.

　

"Anyway," Daphne interrupts. "there's a hunt going on, along the Northern border. Do you want to join us?"

　

"Certainly, come on Draco." She stands and expects Draco to stand with her. He doesn't.

　

"I don't think Draco really wants to come." Theo said. "Do you?"

　

Draco shrugged. He had been on a couple of hunts with them before, but they weren't something he particularly enjoyed. He would be the youngest by far, and the only reason General Nott allowed him to come was because he was royalty. Besides, he didn't get along with the other people in the hunting party.

　

"I have. . . another engagement I should attend." Draco said hesitantly, gathering up his book and hurrying past them. Pansy stared at his retreating back and wondered what other engagement he could possibly have.

　

Then Daphne's arm was slung around her shoulder and she reminded herself to focus on the hunt, not Draco. Her brother could take care of himself.

　

* * *

 

　

"It was him! I know it was him!" Daphne shrieked.

　

Elias was sitting on the throne in the royal court, watching his daughter's friend accuse his son with a heavy heart, because he knew that whether Draco had done it or not, he would still be punished harshly. Their justice system was very flawed.

　

Daphne's parents had brought her before the court that morning, demanding to see the King about a offence committed against their eldest daughter by his youngest child. Daphne's long, blonde, beautiful hair had been hacked off in the night. It wouldn't of been so serious if Daphne had been a commoners child, but she was a noble, and the Kingdom of Slytherin valued beauty.

　

"Draco, did you cut off Daphne's hair?" He asked. Draco shook his head.

　

"He's a liar!" Daphne's mother yelled. "He was jealous of my daughter and wanted to hurt her!"

　

"Why was he jealous?" Nott asked. The General was often present for court sentences, especially if they involved someone of noble status.

　

"Because he wanted to go hunting with his sister and didn't want my daughter there! He has always been jealous of them, it would only be a matter of time before he snapped and did something terrible."

　

"Draco, is this truth?" Elias asked. Draco quickly shook his head, and even from high up on the throne Elias could see his shoulders shaking. The court expected a verbal answer, and jeered and shouted at him when he stayed silent.

　

"Sentence him to the dungeons!" Someone yelled. Elias looked at them sharply. They couldn't expect him to enforce such a sentence on his son for what looked to be just a malicious prank, could they?

　

Draco looked up for a moment and caught his eye, and Elias was overcome with the amount of despair in them. He hated himself for knowing that he was only about to add to it.

　

"Draco Parkinson." He said loudly and clearly.

　

"I sentence you to the Half Kingdom of Knockturn, to find the witches who can cast powerful charms, and to bargain with them to make you a wig that would charm Miss Greengrass's hair back to normal."

　

The Half Kingdom of Knockturn was a dangerous place, filled with evil mages and dark magic. It was dangerous sending the boy alone, yet he didn't trust any of the other warriors and General Nott could hardly leave the Kingdom for one small trip. No, Draco would have to venture out alone. At least he had his magic and the tricks he had learnt from hi Mother to protect him.

　

Draco refused to look at anyone as he was lead away by guards to collect some items for his trip. He took his heavier clock, his throwing knives and his hunting boots that had barely been worn.

　

He left quickly through a portal Elias had made in the courtroom. The other members of the court yelled insults and slurs at him as he passed through.

　

Elias could only pray to the higher forces that the mages of Knockturn would be kind.

　

* * *

 

　

This was a bad place.

　

He could tell by the lingering scent of dark magic, and the state of the place didn't exactly do anything to convince him otherwise. The glass windows in the houses had been shattered and the ground was covered in a thick black gunk that smelt of rotten meat.

　

Draco shuddered as he walked forwards, not even knowing where to start looking. All he had was a name. _Lestrange_. A powerful dark mage who would do anything for the right amount of gold.

　

"What're you doing out alone, darlin'?" A hunched elderly woman asked as she approached him out of seemingly thin air.

　

"I-I'm looking for _Lestrange_." He answered. The woman didn't look surprised.

　

"Lot of you lot, coming 'ere for Lestrange. They never even know which one they want. I don't suppose you have any clue?" Draco didn't say anything and the woman tutted at him. She pointed down an alley between two houses.

　

"Go down that alley, and then take a right and then take the second left. The first house you'll come to on Spinner's End." She told him.

　

Draco thanked the woman and continued on his way, ignoring the rustle of whispers of beggars that he could hear but not see. He went as quickly as he could without arousing suspicion, not wanting to cause a scene.

　

Spinner's End looked worse then the paupers homes in the Kingdom of Slytherin. The street was run down and crumbling, though in all honestly, it was no worse than the other streets in Knockturn. Draco could understand why it was only a Half Kingdom, not a full magnificent one like Slytherin or Ravenclaw.

　

He knocked on the door three times and waited. As he was about to give up it was opened by a tall man with a short beard. He glared at Draco.

　

"Yes?" He barked.

　

"Um, I'm l-looking for Lestrange. I was told they were here."

　

The man smiled like a predator, and Draco suddenly wished he had been sentenced to the dungeons. He grabbed Draco's collar and yanked him inside, waving his arm to lock the door.

　

"Bella!" He shouted. "You've got a visitor." He held Draco in place with one meaty fist.

　

A tall, thin woman with wild hair ambled down the stairs, and Draco noticed two wands entwined in her curls. He swallowed as he smelt the dark magic rolling off of her like some putrid stench.

　

"Itty. Bitty. Baby." She crooned at him. Draco tried to step backwards but the man's hand kept him in place.

　

"No, no, don't be shy. What brings you here?"

　

"I-I had a request." He said quietly. "I have money."

　

"Of course you-" And then Bella suddenly stopped, her eyes widening in what he knew was fury.

　

"Bellatrix?" The man asked cautiously. Bellatrix jabbed Draco's chest with her finger.

　

"After all this time. . . Elias sends me you. What are you? A spy? An assassin? Has the King gotten tired of his youngest and decided to gift him to me?"

　

"I d-don't understand."

　

"Oh?" Bellatrix grabbed his chin and forced him to meet her eyes. "Rodulphos, take him to the basement." She snapped something around his wrist and he immediately recognised it. He turned slightly and punched Rodulphos in the face. His grip around Draco's shoulders loosened and Draco made a run for the door, but suddenly something grabbed him and threw him through the air. Draco cried out in pain as his head smacked against a table corner, making his head spin.

　

Rodulphos dragged him to the basement and sat on his legs while Bellatrix shifted through something behind him and Draco moved sluggishly, the magic suppresser cuff around his wrist draining his energy.

　

Bellatrix came back into his sight holding up a sharp needle and thread. Draco stared at it confusion. What - What was she going to do? She lowered it to his mouth and Draco knew.

　

"No!" He screamed as Rodulphos held him down. She couldn't really, could she? How insane was she?

　

But she could, and she did.

　

She stabbed the needle through his upper lip and carefully stabbed through his bottom lip. She repeated the agonising process until his lips were glued shut, by both the thread and his blood. He had given up on struggling half way through, and just layed limply on the floor, tears leaking out of his eyes.

　

When she was done she patted his face condescendingly, and they shoved him into a barred cell and left him sobbing. The thread was charmed, he could sense it, and he wagered there would be a painful punishment if he attempted to remove it.

　

So he settled for sobbing and hoping his Father would come.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

When his son hadn't returned within the hour, he was concerned. When his son didn't return that evening, he was worried. When his son still hadn't returned the following morning, he gave up on simply waiting.

  
At nine that morn, King Elias, General Nott and two other fine warriors set out for The Half Kingdom of Knockturn. This was so small trip, for all he knew his boy was dead. The thought set fear racing through him, and a small part of him was so surprised at how ready he was to forget his blood didn't run through Draco's veins. But this was no time for technicalities.

 

He had made an educated guess and deduced that Draco would have seeked out help from one of the Lestranges - mages who were notoriously known for doing all sorts of dark deeds for enough coin. Draco's deed was hardly dark in intention, but he wagered Draco would have tried them first.

 

King Elias stared at the small, half falling-down house with disdain. If Draco had gone to them then something terrible had happened. It was his father's instinct, so clear he could almost smell it in the air.

 

General Nott went forwards first into the house first, his gleaming sword ready to behead. Elias followed, and one man was at his back while the other kept watch. A normal mission carried out by his men tended to be loud and bloody, yet he knew that the safest bet on getting Draco back was to go quietly.

 

When they were in the hallway of the house General Nott gestured to a small staircase to his right, and Elias crept down the rickety steps, alone. He wanted to go back; his natural magic was telling him that he would be horrified by what he would find. He persisted down the steps anyway, his magic sensed another person in the basement.

 

Someone shuddered, and then made a choked gasp. There was no light in the basement so he raised his fist and let green magic glow in his palm. He immediately saw a small, hunched up figure in the cell, and ran to it.

 

"Draco?"

 

The figure turned to face him, eyes downcast, and horrifyingly, Elias understood the choked gasp he had heard.

 

Draco's face was mottled with blacks and purples. His left eye was swollen shut, and a deep cut ran through his eyebrow, several other more shallow slices ran along his jawline. But the absolute worst was the state of his mouth -

 

His lips were purple and bloody, thread running through holes in his lips, his mouth sewn completely shut, unable to form the simplest word.

 

Draco swallowed when he saw him kneeling by the cell, and Elias quickly spelled the door open as he heard a thump from upstairs. Draco fell sideways towards him, exhausted and crying silently. Elias caught his thin body before he could hit the floor, and he picked him up as easily as if he were a babe.

 

Draco made another small noise, likely wanting to get the thread taken out, but Elias couldn't. He could sense the spells on them, and he knew that if they were not unthreaded in a safe area then Draco would get even more hurt.

 

General Nott came stampeding down the steps, his eyes widening when he saw the state of the Prince. He recovered from his shock quickly and informed him that he should leave now, as they were battling with Bellatrix Lestrange, but were likely to win.

 

Elias nodded and General Nott disappeared back up the basement steps, adding more thumps and bangs to the ongoing fight upstairs.

 

Elias closed his eyes and let his magic flow through him, building it up until he glowed with it. He pictured the throne room where Freya was waiting, and then he let the powerful guide him through the Kingdom's, hopping from one world to another.

 

He fell to his knee in the throne room, just managing to keep Draco's head from cracking against the stone floor. Freya rushed over to him, gasping on a sob as she took in the state of Draco's face. Draco seemed to be unconscious, the travel finally tiring him out. Elias was experienced at Apparating and usually could do it with ease, but with strain of the things had had seen was wearing down harshly on him. He wanted to Apparate Draco to Healer Andromeda, however he didn't want to cause any more damage by splinching the poor boy.

 

  
Freya was cradling Draco's head and whispering small healing spells that helped close up the cuts on his face, and helped bring the swelling of his eye down. Elias shifted until Draco was properly in his arms again, and then with Freya stroking Draco's hair, he set off towards Healer Andromeda. He ordered a guard to keep people away from them as he hurried to her, almost breaking into a run. The guard did his best, but some people who were already in the palace stopped and stared at their King running to the healer's with his son in his arms. Elias pushed their gawping stares to the back of his mind; he could focus on them later on, he had much more important things to do.

 

When he barged his way into the healer's section of the palace Healer Andromeda took one look at Draco and then ordered the King to set him down on the bed in Draco's personal healing room (he had been under Andromeda's care so often that they had ended up giving him a room to stop the other patients staring). Healer Andromeda ordered them to leave, and he and Freya protested vehemently, but she calmly explained that they were distracting her and it would be better for all of them if she could simply get on with taking the thread out of Draco's lips as soon as possible. Not wanting to prolong Draco's agony they agreed to wait outside.

 

"This is my fault." He said after a minute. What in Salazar's name had he been _thinking_? He had no proof that Draco had even done the crime he was accused of. He had given him a harsh punishment because he didn't want to anger the nobles, who would likely of harassed Draco until something else had happened. And then if they did do that he should of been around to stop them. He was a father, a King too, but Draco was his _son_. It made him face the fact that if it had been the other way round, with Draco having lots of friends and being an excellent warrior and Pansy was friendless and picked on, he would of done something about it. A horrible part of him knew it was because Pansy was shared his same blood, and the other part was because she was a girl and in their Kingdom _women_ were _supposed_ to be protected. Boys and men were supposed to be able to protect themselves and become brave warriors, especially a man of noble or royal status. Another reason why he had not done much about the behaviour of those in his Kingdom was because he had thought it would make Draco learn to defend himself, and he would grow out of his friendless stage. When Draco had only become more isolated, he knew he should of done more to make sure he was treated with the same respect Pansy was, but he _didn't_.

 

And now something terrible had happened and Draco likely would never want to speak to him again. He couldn't exactly blame his son.

 

Beside him, Freya didn't respond, staring down at her hands.

 

"You're right." She said after a minute. "It is your fault, but it is also mine. I should have gone with him, and yet I let him walk off into the heart of danger. Even before this, we should of done something about the way the others treat him. The things some of them say about him. . ." Freya broke off and looked back at her hands.

 

Elias knew what she was talking about. The things they said about his son, whether it was a noble, warrior, commoner or even someone his own age or younger, were insults. He had never heard any other person except Severus Snape or Healer Andromeda applaud his magic the way he and Freya and occasionally Pansy (usually in a rather backhanded way) did. Draco just didn't fit in and it was painfully obvious.

 

He had seen a fair deal of wars, a fair deal of brutal and gory deaths, murders and violent crimes, but none of them scared him more than what was going to happen when Draco woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is basically a filler, and the next chapter is going to be much longer. thanks for the read!!


	8. Chapter 8

  
When Draco did wake up, it was in the early hours of the following morning. They were at his bedside and Pansy had joined them after being informed by a guard. The thread had been carefully removed from his lips, but they were still slightly puffy and Healer Andromeda had told them that they would very likely scar permanently.

 

They sat silently, each of them wanting to say something but not knowing how to. Draco slept peacefully, and if it wasn't for the yellowing bruises and marks around his mouth he wouldn't of known that anything was wrong.

 

He was on the verge of saying something to Pansy when there was a small noise of discomfort from Draco. They all leaned forward, Freya squeezing his hand and murmuring to him. Draco eyes opened and he blinked at the ceiling. He closed them almost immediately and his face twisted into an expression of agony, and Elias knew it wasn't all physical. Draco took heavy breaths through his nose, trying to stem the tears even as they flowed freely down his face.

 

Elias looked away as he cried harder, turning his back on them and curling up under the sheets. Pansy looked away too, and he could see her own eyes were shining. Unable to take the upheaval of emotion, knowing he was the one who had caused it, he stood and left the room, wiping at his eyes.

 

He ignored Pansy's whisper of protest as he closed the door behind him. He ordered the guards not to move from their posts as he stormed off to the King's quarters. He slammed the door shut behind him and then just stood silently, hand rubbing over his stubble.

 

He was used to always knowing. He was the King of Slytherin, he had defeated Riddle's army, had been raised a warrior and a strategist.

 

Even with Pansy he knew what he knew what to expect. She was like him so it was so much easier to connect with her. But Draco's differences were bold. He was by far the most emotional boy - person - he had ever known. By far the oddest and loneliest.

 

    

* * *

 

Elias visited Draco later that day, alone. Draco was still curled under the sheets, though he had stopped crying. Now he just laid there silently, completely still.

 

"Draco," He greeted. He didn't expect Draco to respond, and tried not to be too disappointed when he didn't. He sat down in the empty chair next to his bed, Freya and Pansy having given him some privacy.

   
"I. . .apologise." He said, searching Draco's face for a reaction. There wasn't one. "I shouldn't of just blindly believed Daphne, and even if you had done it, the punishment should not of been so severe." He finished awkwardly as he realised he had nothing else to say. He had wanted Draco to yell at him, but Draco gave him no reaction.

 

Even so, he stayed by Draco's bedside until dawn the next morning, when he was needed as a King. Draco didn't look at him once.

 

* * *

 

Pansy hovered over her brother. She knew she was doing it, and if it were the other way round it would've driven her crazy, but Draco didn't seem to mind that much.

 

She stuck with him at the feasts, talking to him instead of her friends, until he would leave half way through. Though, talking with him was a stretch. She talked at him and hoped he would respond with sound instead of a nod or shake of his head.

 

After the incident, as they had begun calling it, Draco had stopped speaking. It was like the quiet days he had, except they went on and on. No matter what they did he just wouldn't talk. It reminded her of when they had been children and wondering why Draco didn't speak until he suddenly did. This time, she wasn't quite sure if it was something he would snap out of.

 

When she was with him he often read, or Pansy told him some stupid story that he probably didn't care for. Sometimes though, he would just lie in bed and not move for the entire day, as if he was tied down to the mattress. He had an almost permanent look of exhaustion, even on the days he did nothing but sleep. Mother spent those days with him, alone in his quarters. Pansy hadn't been able to stand the sight of her little brother so lifeless.

 

Father had been angry at first. He had been furious with the Healers, wanting to know about any type of spell work that could of been weaved into Draco to make him like he was. He made Healer Andromeda do it, even though he or Mother could have easily done it themselves. Healer Andromeda had always liked Draco, and Draco liked her best out of all the healers as he seemed to naturally trust her more; it was like they shared some special connection.

 

After running multiple spells and charms over and through Draco, Healer Andromeda had calmly told them that there was nothing wrong with him physically, no spell damage or curses. She had then told them that it was emotional trauma, and that it was all in his head, though it didn't make it any less damaging than a physical injury.

 

"So you're telling us that there's nothing physically wrong with him?" Andromeda nodded. "Is there any way to snap him out of it?" Andromeda looked slightly pained, and Pansy thought she looked _very_ tired in that moment.

 

"No. Draco went though something extremely traumatic for anyone of any age, so it makes it worse that he is just a _child_." The added emphasis on the word almost made Father look guilty. "Just. . . be there for him. When he is ready to talk let him, encourage him but don't try to force him."

 

Draco's silence went on for months. He rarely left him rooms, and when he did it was only to go to the library to find a book and then scurry back up to what Pansy guessed he deemed as safe.

 

    

* * *

 

In the wake of what had happened, Freya hoped that the other children would be a little more sympathetic towards Draco and try to include him more. Making friends through sympathy wasn't the best way to go about it, but it was the only chance he had.

 

Blaise Zabini, one of Pansy's friends who had never really picked on Draco that much as he had often just avoided him, seemed to mature. He asked Pansy how Draco was a few times, and although Freya had warned Pansy not to tell him too much, he never did anything malicious with the information that Pansy did give him.

 

However, for the likes of Daphne Greengrass and Millicent Bulstrode, they did the opposite. Someone started the nickname of _Scarlip_ , and although she couldn't prove it, she knew it was them. It was a term Draco despised, even going so far as to burst into tears when Daphne cornered him one day and snarled it in his face, her fingers flicking his lip. Pansy had been rounding the corner when it had happened and after, a guard had had to drag her off the girl. By that time Draco had vanished, and the guard later said that a panicked-looking Prince had gestured wildly to the corridor and then disappeared on the spot.

 

Draco hadn't left his room for nine days after that. Even though they had agreed to have Daphne and Millicent removed from the palace for a while, hopefully forever, the nickname had spread. It made Freya want to throttle them. Couldn't they see what they were doing?

 

What had her son _ever_ done to them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just noticed that this already has over 100 kudos!! Thanks!!!
> 
> And the chapter after this is going to the last one before the actual plot starts and Harry is introduced.


	9. Chapter 9

Before the incident, as they had taken to calling it, Draco had been called the Ice Prince. He had been called a witch and a trickster, called fragile and dainty. After the incident it was very much the same.

 

Draco would spend his days alone if Pansy was not with him. She had taken to following him, but eventually she had stopped, seeing how her constant presence seemed to irk him. He would practise his spell work silently, holed up in his room for days on end, refusing to go further than the Queen's gardens.

 

It was no way to live, she thought, but it was all he had.

  
She knew she needed to tell him the truth about his parentage desperately, before something horrible came of it, yet she feared his reaction. He already struggled to fit in so much, it would be so much worse when he found out why.

 

  

* * *

 

 

When his speech came back, it was slowly and in stutters.

 

He still went days without speaking, but he gradually said more and more, until he was almost the same as he was before. He still had days when he refused to leave his rooms, when no matter what they did he refused to speak to them, but they were lessening.

* * *

 

 

Pansy groaned as something thumped against her quarters' doors. Surely, whatever they wanted could wait until morning.

 

She waited until another thump, and then another, until she groaned again and gave up, getting out of bed and pulling a dressing gown around herself.

 

She opened the door and then blinked at the peculiar sight of her brother leaning against the doorframe, wagging his finger at the wood and swaying on his feet.

 

"Open!" He demanded, and then blinked when he realised that the door was open and that she was standing there staring at him. "Oh."

 

"Draco, what in Slytherin's name are you doing?"

 

"I c-c-could ask you the _saaaame_ thing." He slurred. Pansy caught a whiff of ale and groaned again.

 

"You're drunk!" Draco's face twisted into a frown.

 

"A-Am not. What're _you_ doing?"

 

"What?" She asked, very confused as to what Draco was talking about.

 

"My _rooms_. You're _in_ them." He accused.

 

"These are _my_ rooms."

 

Draco blinked at her again. "Oh. . . They are? I'll just. . ." He took a wobbly step away from the door and Pansy reached forward and grabbed his arm. She pulled him into her rooms. She lead him over to an armchair and pushed him down into it.

 

"Why did you even get drunk anyway?" She muttered, searching for a nausea potion. It seemed that she had used them up on her last outing and would have to ask Professor Snape for more.

 

"I thought that if," Draco mumbled from the armchair. "I was less _me_ , than I would be more lik-ab-le." He struggled with the last word, stumbling over it. Pansy turned to face him, not able to think of anything to say in reply.

 

"Draco. . ."

 

"No!" Draco waved his hands. "T-They d-don't like me, and ale makes people different and c-confident so I. . . I wanted to make _friends_. . ." There was a sorrow to his confession that Pansy didn't know how to handle. She knew Draco had trouble with talking to people, but she didn't know he was this desperate to fit in.

 

"But they still didn't. . . They laughed and said I waaaas pathetic and weak.  _Girly_."

 

"Draco. . ." Pansy said again. Draco suddenly scrambled out of his seat, covering his mouth. Pansy shoved him into the bathroom and listened as Draco vomited everything he had eaten that day. Pansy quickly followed him inside. She knelt down next to him and stroked his back as he continued to heave.

 

"I-I should go. . ." Draco said hoarsely.

 

"No way. You're in now state to be using your magic. You can sleep in my bed."

 

"In . . . your. . . bed?" He repeatedly slowly.

 

"Like when we were children."

 

 "I remember that. . ." He sounded like he was going to say more, but didn't. He let Pansy lead him to her bed and carefully got into it. They lasted only half an hour before he was curled in her arms, just like when they were children. Pansy fell asleep to Draco's snores and tried not to think about why he was even here.

 

When she wakes, Draco was gone.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco stood in front of his large bedroom mirror, completely nude as he stared at his pathetic form. Weak, he thought as his hands trailed over his pale skin.

 

The other boys his age - or younger, even- had bulging muscles evident even under their tunics. Even Pansy was muscly. He had a more wiry build, one that the others had never failed to point out, even in jest. It was never funny to him, but they didn't really care.

 

He refused to take his hands any further than his waist, knowing that what was down there wasn't normal. He was supposed to have one or the other, not both. His Mother had had to sit him down and explain to him that it was possible he could have children one day - as in, actually give _birth_ to them.  It had been one of the most humiliating conversations of his life.

 

Sighing heavily to himself, he stepped away from his mirror and pulled on a robe. It was green and black, and complemented his colouring. Even that was different to his parents' and Pansy's. They all had darker, tanned skin yet he was pale as snow with white hair to match.

 

Sometimes, he did wonder. . .

 

He pushed the thought from his mind as he buttoned up his cloak over his robe. Father had wanted to speak to him and Pansy about something and he had said it was important. He didn't like  being late to things.

 

* * *

 

 

In a place far far away, a phone beeped, and a boy gasped.

 

_He had found it._


	10. Chapter 10

   
"I'm sure of it! Look at the readings!" Harry insisted as, yet again, he shoved the papers in Remus' face. "Look! We found something, the readings are off the charts. It came up on my phone last night. I swear this is not a prank."

 

"It does look legitimate, but it's not that I don't believe you, it's that we have nothing to do with this information." Remus sighed, looking over the numbers on the charts. It was true, it did look like they had finally found something. . . but what?

 

Harry hesitated. "Well, about that. . . It's nothing bad!" He said quickly at Remus' expression. "Me, Hermione and Ron were here last night, and we encrypted the signals. . . And we sent a message. Just a hello. If nothing comes of it than I'll leave it, but we might actually be onto something!"

 

Remus sighs tiredly and rubs at one of the scars on his face. He had come to London all the way from Rome, where he and Sirius had been on a relaxing holiday. He was always terrible with jetlag.

 

"Okay." He says finally. "But you'll inform Minerva and the others, and you will keep us updated."

 

Harry grins widely at him. "Thanks, Moony."

 

   

* * *

 

Elias sits in his throne as he regards his children. Pansy, wearing her battle amour, clearing having just come training. Draco, even though he was finally taller than her, looked much smaller compared to her, in his simple tunic and boots.

 

"Father, what is it?" Pansy questions.

 

"We have received a message, from another Kingdom. This one, however, is unknown and foreign to us. We are still translating it to our language. I wanted to inform you of this discovery, as it may have an affect on you. I would not worry yourselves over it" He aims it more at Draco than Pansy, "but as my children, I want you to be aware of what is happening."

 

"Another Kingdom? What if they're like the Malfoy's and Riddle?" Pansy asks, her hand tightening on her sword at the mere mention of his old enemies. She's (thankfully, for Draco)  too young to have any vivid memories of the battle, but she remembers his absence and she knows enough from history  lessons to hate them.

 

"We will cross that bridge when we get to it." He says truthfully. His mind is full of half-concocted plans of what he will do if it comes to it. He hopes it will not. Alliance with another Kingdom would do well for them.

 

"But Father-"

 

"Enough, Pansy. We do not know much about this Kingdom and it is dangerous to make such assumptions. We do not go about making war."

 

"But we must always be ready for it." She finishes.

 

And if it comes to it, they will be.

 

Draco stays silent throughout the exchange of words, hands fluttering by his sides. He looks as if he wants to leave and go back up to his rooms, as usual. Elias wants to say something, wants to reach out to him somehow, but when it comes to his son, he is clueless.

 

* * *

 

 

General Nott gathers a small section of his army on his orders, most of them who went to Knockturn with him. It's just for protection, just in case the Kingdom wasn't friendly and was looking for conflict.

 

Pansy begs him to let her go, citing that fighting others would help her improve. He reminds her that they don't even know if they are going to be enemies. She relents after he says no a few times, but he can tell she's planning something else.

 

Draco seems interested from an academic perspective. He attempted to make conversation with him about what kind of culture they would have, but after a couple of one word answers and shrugs he gave up. He wants to make a meaningful connection with his son, engage with him in something, but just like every other attempt, he fails.

 

Freya is on the throne when he departs with General Nott. She kisses his cheek and lightly tells him not to get himself killed, but he can feel how worried she is underneath the surface. Pansy gives him a hug and warns him to let her fight if she is needed. He pats Draco's shoulder awkwardly, Draco's expression unreadable. Draco doesn't say anything to him, just nods.

 

    

* * *

 

 

"Oh, crap crap crap - Remus! Hermione, you have to be kidding!" Harry shouts over the deafening noise. It sounds like a bomb going off, except it doesn't stop and just keeps coming.

 

"I'm not joking!" Hermione yells back as she frantically types on the computers. Ron is reading over her shoulder, his eyes wide as he sees the readings.

 

"Harry!" He gasps. "Something's coming through!"

 

Stupidly, the only thought in Harry's head was _'at least he sent the message correctly.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am I evil enough to end a chapter like this? yes, yes I am.
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!


	11. Chapter 11

 

While his father was investigating the strange Kingdom that had somehow sent a message to them, his mother sat upon the throne. Because of this, he no longer had anyone to hold an intelligent conversation with about magical theory.

 

Pansy was training all day everyday, as if preparing for a battle, so he no longer had anyone to talk to at all. Not that she would of wanted to discuss magical theory, anyway.

 

He stayed holed up in his rooms. He practised his magic, even though he wasn't sure what the actual point of it was - it would be useless in battle. Not that he would ever qualify to fight, he wasn't built to be a soldier.

 

He didn't think he was built for much of anything.

 

Avoiding social contact like the plague, he researched the Kingdom that had sent the message. After a few hours he concluded that it was a rather primitive Kingdom, not at all like Slytherin. There was no magic in the Kingdom, though the Malfoy's and Riddle's Army invaded a couple thousand years ago, roughly the same time period he was born in. His father was one of the men who defeated the tyrant, Riddle.

 

The Kingdom would've recovered from the attack long ago, and unless their lifespans were anything like the four Kingdoms he already knew of (and the Half-Kingdom's in between) they would not have remembered it. That was likely a good thing.

 

On the third day of his father's absence, Pansy wanted to see him.

 

"Where are your. . . lackeys?" He asked as he noted that she was completely alone, not even Blaise Zabini at her side.

 

Pansy waved her hand. "Doing things that I do not care to know." She said, walking past him and into his rooms.

 

"Ah. . ." He said awkwardly, closing the door behind her. "Do come in." He muttered.

 

"You haven't been out of these rooms since father left." She said knowingly. Draco made no attempt to deny it, in recent years he had become known as reclusive, almost never leaving the palace grounds. He never had any need to. "Take a walk with me?"

 

"No, thank you." He politely declines. He turns back to his scrolls and books, flicking his wrist and making them float through the air and onto their appropriate shelves. Pansy huffs from behind him.

 

"Come on, Draco! We never spend any time together anymore."

 

"I can't think why." He snaps, bitterness seeping into the retort. Pansy has her own friends occupy herself with, and Draco has bitter loneliness and books and an inability to fit in.

 

"Draco, please? Just around the grounds?"

 

"I said _no_ , Pansy. Go with your actual friends, you have no use of me when you have much better company."

 

Pansy splutters. " _Better company_? You're my brother! I want to spend time with you! Is it that much to ask?"

 

"Yes." He says instantly, only regretting the sharp response slightly. "I have my studies to be getting on with, and you have. . . whatever you do with those idiots. I fail to see why I should spend copious amounts of time in your presence when you have other, more _willing_ , company." The last book floats onto its place. Draco turns back to his sister. She's staring at him in what he thinks is shock, he never was good at reading faces, and she shakes her head at him.

 

"Why are you so. . .?" She shakes her head again and cuts herself off. Draco feels as if he has been slapped.

 

"So what?" He demands. She only shakes her head again, and something in his stomach twists when he sees her eyes shining. It's enough to make him look away.

 

"It's nothing. You want to be left alone? Fine. Do what you want."

 

She doesn't slam the door when she leaves, but he jumps anyway. Swallowing around the growing lump in his throat he goes into his bedroom and slams the door shut so hard it rattles on its hinges.

 

_He doesn't need her_ , he whispers to himself. He wasn't being unfair. He just. . . can't be bothered to care anymore.

 

  

* * *

 

"Uh, can you like, put down that really huge sword?" Maybe that wasn't the best thing to say to the weirdly human-looking aliens which had just appeared in the lab in front of him. But still. Big sword, making him feel very threatened with only computers to defend himself with.

 

"Are you the messenger?" The man with the really, really huge sword asked. Harry squinted and realised that he was wearing a _crown_.

 

Oh, _christ_ , what on earth had he _done?_

 

Remus raised his hands, Harry hoped they recognised it as a symbol of peace, and took a step forward.

 

"Please, state your name and your reason for travelling here." He says calmly. It's a good job it's Remus and not Sirius, Harry thinks.

 

"I am King Elias Parkinson, ruler of the Kingdom of Slytherin, defeater of Riddle's army. And who are you?" The man with the crown says. King? Ruler? Oh, _god_.

 

"Remus Lupin, head of the Hogwarts research laboratory. I've no fancy titles, I'm afraid." There's a hint of humour in his voice, but the newcomers don't seem to catch it.

 

"Are you the messanger? The one who sent word to our Kingdom?"

 

_Whoops_.

 

"That's me!" He calls, jogging over to stand beside Remus. "I was the one who sent the message, I didn't actually think it would reach anyone."

 

"Friend or Foe?" The King asks, eyeing them up.

 

"We're friends if you are." Remus says carefully. There's a two second silence when the King and the man next to him exchange a look. "Listen, would you like to to sit and have a formal discussion? It would be much easier than standing here yelling at each other."

 

   

* * *

 

 

An hour later, Harry's mind had been utterly blown.

 

Firstly, his message had actually been recieved. Secondly, by another world. Thirdly, the other world had communicated back. Fourthly, he was talking to the King of said world.

 

Overall it was a lot to take in.

 

"So, you don't have technology like this?" Hermione asked as she scribbled his answers down on a clipboard.  She pointed to the computers and laptops and phones around the lab.

 

"Nay, we have mages, but I suspect that there is a noticeable difference."

 

"Mages?" Ron gapes. Harry is right along with him. King Elias doesn't look surprised by their shock.

 

"Ah, I suspected this world was not one for magic. But yes, mages are common in our realm."

 

"Are you a mage? Is everyone is your world a mage?" asked Hermione. Oddly enough she didn't seem too shocked by the revelation.

 

"I am, yes. Everyone has magic in them, some more than others. Most learn it and wield it naturally in battle, though few, like my son, are born with it. It is almost always more

powerful if you are born with it."

 

"How does your world work?" Harry asked. King Elias frowned at him.

 

"I am a King and I rule over my Kingdom. When we first came here, over a millennia ago, you had a similar system."

 

Hermione narrowed her eyes and Harry winced in sympathy.

 

"So, you're not voted in, you inherit power? Who's inheriting it after you?"

 

King Elias didn't seem to notice her tone.

 

"Yes, that is generally how it works, and if anything happened to me it would go to my wife, then my daughter and then my son. If they couldn't take the throne for whatever reason, then General Nott would take over until the situation had passed." General Nott nodded along.

 

Remus's phone suddenly jingled.

 

"Sorry," He mouthed as he went out into the vacant corridor. Harry could only faintly hear the conversation; from Remus's replies it sounded as if Sirius was on the other side.

 

"This is a lot to take in." He said. King Elias nodded.

 

"I understand. Gentlemen, Lady, I believe it is time we took our leave, though, I would like to keep an open communication with this world. I do hope you understand, I have a Kingdom to run."

 

"What kind of communication?" Remus asked, coming back into the room as he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

 

"A portal of some kind. It will only allow people who are not a threat to pass through, and none of them will without my permission." King Elias reassured him.

 

Harry still had dozens of questions he needed answering. But at the mention of the portal, he decided they could wait. He wanted to see how it worked, and maybe one day he could recreate it. That's what he loved about science - it was full of endless possibilities.

 

As he watched King Elias and his small platoon vanish into thin air, just as they had came, he couldn't help but wonder about the different worlds. Maybe he would meet other people from that world, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they are going to meet in the next chapter I swear!!!
> 
> thanks for reading!!!


	12. Chapter 12

This entire situation was nothing like he could have anticipated, not in his wildest dreams.

 

The portal was in the main laboratory, the one Harry himself used most often. It was almost as tall as he was, and if he looked into the middle of it then he could see a vaulted corridor on the other side. It was being guarded by the King's guards, so no one could come or go either way without the King knowing.

 

From what Harry understood, King Elias' world was a bit like their own history, with royalty inheriting power and no voting. The King had seemed decent enough, but he couldn't help but think that maybe their system was a little outdated. Still, he might be wrong.

 

And then there was the magic. Ever since they had left a few days ago Harry had been holed up in his lab, trying to figure out how the hell it worked.

 

So far, he had not one solid theory. Ideally, he really needed to study it more. . .

 

Sighing, he rubbed at his eyes underneath his glasses. He was getting nowhere with his research. Just as he was about to leave and go grab a coffee, he heard a voice.

 

He strained his ears and turned to stare at the portal as the voice - more than one - got increasingly louder.

 

_"My father won't know, Blaise, and even if he does, I'll just talk my way out of it."_ A female voice said.

 

_"I don't think he would be particularly happy about it, even if you are his favourite."_ A deeper voice, presumably Blaise, said. The girl snorted.

 

_"It would be easier to sweet talk him than Mother. You know she has a soft spot for Draco, he's such a mummy's boy. Not that he ever actually breaks any rules."_

 

_"Yes, your brother is a bit of a. . . recluse."_ Blaise said.

 

_"He's a loner with no friends, you can say it."_ She paused. _"Anyway, we're here to look at this portal, not talk about my baby brother."_

 

They went quiet for a moment, and when they spoke again their voices were much louder.

 

_"Do you think it would harm us if we went straight through?"_

 

_"I don't believe it would be a good idea-"_

 

_"Well, I guess you weren't the only ones who had the brilliant idea of seeing what was on the other side of the portal."_ A new voice cut in.

 

_"Theodore, how did you get here undetected?"_ The girl said.

 

_"My father is the general, I know the same palace secrets as you. Have you gotten through yet?"_ Theodore answered.

 

_"Nay, we have not."_ Blaise said.

 

_"Why don't we throw something in? See if it gets thrown back?"_

 

At this point Harry wondered if they could hear him the same as he was hearing them.

 

_"We don't have anything to throw. Besides, I don't want to loose something out of carelessness."_

 

_"I'm sure we can find - Oh, look who it is. Prince Draco!"_ It sounded as if Theodore spat the name. Harry wondered about the story there.

 

Then it clicked - Prince Draco. King Elias' son. He had a daughter too - was that the girl?

 

_"Theodore, Blaise, Pansy. I was just -"_

 

There was a scuffle, and then Theodore spoke again.

 

_"What? It's just a book, you can get another one."_

 

_"Theo!"_ Pansy hissed.

 

_"No, no, I need that book!"_ said Draco.

 

Theodore scoffed. _"I hardly see why."_

 

_"You need a basic understanding of the written word to appreciate literature, so I'm hardly surprised."_ Draco muttered.

 

Harry snorted.

 

_"Did you hear that?! There's someone on the other side."_

 

_"I don't care! Give me my book back!"_

 

_"Theodore-"_

 

_"Say please. . . No? Alright then!"_

 

Harry jumped as a book flew from the portal, landing at his feet. He nudged it with his foot, wondering if it was going to . . . explode or something.

 

_"No-!"_

 

_"The guards are coming, go!"_

 

There was another scuffle, followed by total silence.

 

Harry reached down and gingerly picked the book up. It was old, the pages fraying, and bound in leather. It was warm to the touch, but fortunately, it didn't explode on him. He set it down on his work bench and began to flick through it randomly.

 

At first it seemed to be written in gibberish, but then as Harry focused on the words, they began to rewrite themselves in front of his eyes. Harry's mouth dropped open - what was this? Some sort of translator?

 

He flicked back to the front page.

 

_Property of Prince Draco Parkinson._

 

_Return to the Prince immediately if found._

 

There were doodles on the margins, written notes that translated themselves for Harry.

 

_Excellent for glamouring, not for actual shape shifting._

 

_Voice moderation!_

 

_Prof Snape - crush not cut, easier to get the juice out._

 

_Dreamless sleep - good for nightmares/flashbacks. How to make one for when subject is awake? Ask Prof Snape/Mother._

 

It seemed like an instruction book. The Prince had been through every page and added his notes, some more personal than others. In a way Harry felt like he was violating him, seeing his notes which he had been making for what must have been years.

 

So, Harry closed the book and took it to his room to make sure no one else saw it. When he had the chance (and understood more about the portal) he would give it back.

 

  

* * *

 

Draco took a deep, silent breath as he observed the portal.

 

Damn Theodore. He needed that book, Theodore had no right to take it from him. He was tempted to report it to Father, as technically it was theft, but didn't want to be seen as whiny. Besides, his Father had more important things to worry about than him loosing his book, and he doubted the rest of the court would care. Draco was tempted to curse him with  a particularly nasty curse that would leave him vomiting slugs.

 

He double checked to make sure he was completely glamoured - he didn't want anybody on the other side to see him.

 

His heart was beating so loudly he feared it would send the guards running.

 

Draco took one final breath before he stepped into the portal.

 

* * *

 

Harry was awoken that night to his phone beeping wildly. He groaned, pulling his pillow over his head and hoping the blasted thing would just shut up and let him sleep.

 

When it continued to go off and hit the audio.

 

"Dobby?" He asked the AI which was connected to his phone and the rest of his building.

 

"Mister Harry Potter has an intruder in his laboratory! Mister Harry Potter should-!"

 

"Right, going, turn off the alarm." He jumped out of bed and grabbed the baseball bat which he kept by him just in case. This was the first time he had ever had a reason to use it, though.

 

"Dobby," He kept the phone pressed to his ear. "anything else you can tell me?" He asked as he crept down the stairs to his lab. He briefly wondered why there was no one else who had heard the alarm, but then remembered that it was only wired to his phone.

 

"The being came through the portal. I cannot get a good visual, there is something about him that my cameras cannot quite pick up. My apologies, Mister Harry Potter."

 

"It's fine," He whispered. "Wish me luck?" His phone beeped in response.

 

Harry gripped the bat tightly in his hand and quietly opened the laboratory door.

 

He opened to just in time to see a flicker of something disappear back through the portal.

 

   

* * *

 

 

He was sure he had almost found it. He could sense the book somewhere nearby.

 

But then he had heard footsteps, and had jumped back through the portal before he could be discovered. He couldn't be found out, he was in no way authorised to go through the portal.

 

"Draco, is everything alright?" His mother's voice startled him out of his thoughts.

 

"Indeed, Mother, I am fine." He lied, even as he knew it wouldn't fool her.

 

"Did you-" Pansy started. "find that thing you needed?" She finished after a quick glance to their mother.

 

"No." He said. 

 

"Do you want some help with getting it?"

 

"No." Draco said, standing. "I'm going to take my leave." He left the breakfast table, listening to his Mother's worried whispers until they died down into nothing.

 

No, he didn't have it back yet. But he was going to get it.

 

  

* * *

 

 

When the shadow next came back, Harry was ready for him. Or her. Whoever.

 

He waited by his laboratory with his baseball bat in one hand and a stun gun in the other, another just in case. Dobby was going to alert him if something different came through.

 

After some consideration he had decided not to tell Remus and the others. Dobby was going to alert them if he got hurt, but for all he knew the person coming through could be completely harmless.

 

It was just after two in the morning when he heard a soft thud, and his phone vibrated from his pocket.

 

He crouched by the door and peered inside, watching as things moved through the air, even though no one seemed to be touching them. Dobby had told him about this, about how he had only managed to capture his heat signatures, even though they were much lower than a normal persons.

 

Steeling himself for a fight, Harry pushed open the door and strode inside.

 

"Hello, are you looking for something?" He said in a neutral tone. Someone gasped.

 

"No, don't go back. I just want to talk." Harry said quickly when he thought he caught a flicker of something near the portal.

 

"D-Do you have it?" Someone whispered. "My b-book, I lost it in here. . ."

 

"This would be easier if I could see you." Harry said. 

 

He watched, mesmerised, as a person slowly appeared near the portal. A tiny bit taller than him, lanky and pale, with white-blond hair. He was dressed in a tunic and leggings with a dark cloak over the top, nothing like the way the glamorous King had been dressed.

 

"I'm Harry." He stuck out his hand. Lanky and Pale stared at it as if it was diseased. "Tough crowd." He muttered.

 

"I'm Prince Draco Parkinson, heir to the throne of Slytherin." Lanky and Pale -Prince Draco - said haughtily.

 

"Er, cool, Prince Draco, do you mind if I just call you Draco? Well anyways, how come you've decided to drop by?" He acted as if he hadn't heard Draco ask for his book.

 

"I lost something. . . I'm not sure if. . ."

 

"A book came through a couple of days ago, if that's what you're looking for."

 

Draco nodded. "Y-Yes, that's mine. May I have it back?"

 

"Sure, give me a second." Harry quickly ran to his room and pulled the book out from the triple-locked box he had kept it in for safekeeping.

 

Draco was standing in the same spot Harry had left him in, wringing his hands in a gesture of nervousness. He all but snatched it back when Harry handed it to him.

 

"What kind of book is it? I mean, I know what it says, but is it, I don't know, a magic book or something?"

 

"You know what it says?"

 

"Yeah, I didn't at first but then it like, rewrote itself for me. Is it not meant to do that?"

 

"No, no, you shouldn't be able to read this. . . You have to learn it. Have you ever heard of Parseltongue?"

 

"Uh, no. Is that what they speak in Slytherin?"

 

"It used to be, but now it's a dead language. They speak in Slyth now, like how Hufflepuff speaks in Huff Le, and Gryffindor speaks in Grife, and how Ravenclaw speaks in Ravanna. But Parseltongue is a dead language, no one speaks it anymore. It doesn't translate, that's what made the language so good to use in war. So you really shouldn't be able to read it or come anywhere near understanding it on your first try." Draco said in a rush. Harry got the impression that Draco wasn't used to talking to people, judging by the way he seemed to be talking at Harry.

 

"I guess I'm just special?" Harry joked.

 

"I should be going." Draco said suddenly as he spun on his heel, abruptly ending their conversation.

 

"Wait!" Draco turned. "You'll come back, won't you? I mean, _can_ you come back?"

 

"I can. . . consider it."  And then he was gone, back through the portal, leaving Harry standing alone in his laboratory, questions racing through his mind.

 

He took his phone out of his pocket.

 

"Dobby, alert me and only me if he comes back. . . no, I don't need the others to know . . . yes, I know . . ."

 

   

* * *

 

 

_In a place even further away, separated by the bitter cost of war, something was waking up._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, that's that. our faves have met!!!!
> 
> thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a comment if you liked this!


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